Tyrant of the Ruined Sun

Like the eerie silence before a storm, the tent grew unnaturally quiet that caused poor Komak collapse shakingly on his knees with his head pressed painfully on the ground, desperately hoping to weather the devastating storm about to descend upon them.

Yet to his and all the gathered Patriarchs' confusion, instead of an eruption of thunderous words and chilling promises of an unsightly end, a hearty and jovial laughter like a spring's breeze swept through the gathered military officers, and even Hamilcar himself couldn't hide the chuckle that escaped his throat.

A look of utter confusion passed through the faces of all the gathered Patriarchs, especially those who supported Gallick's earlier words, but before they could ask what was so funny, Hamilcar's voice cut through the cacophonous sounds of the still laughing officers "Gallick of the Olgan Clan was it?"

Though bewildered by the sudden question, Gallick still replied "Yes, indeed."

"Tell me, how old are you?" Hamilcar asked again, completely disregarding the still laughing officers, who were now clutching their sides in pain.

"...Twenty six." He replied, with an increasing sense of unease.

"A shame." Hamilcar cryptically replied, before slowly rising from his seat, causing the previously laughing officers to instantly be silent, while shocking the Patriarchs with his massive stature that easily dominated the space, despite the simple robes he wore, as he declared "Your words have been heard, but I can not act on them without his majesty's agreement, so for now you may return to your respective clans until my master's reply arrives."

Then the curtains that functioned as the tent's entrance flapped open, with the guards signaling them to leave.

Although surprised by the speed with which the negotiations ended, originally believing they would stay for a few hours at least, they non the less felt extremely satisfied with it's conclusion, especially Gallick, who left with a noticeably large grin plastered across his features, believing his gamble to not only have met, but even exceeded his expectations.

***

After being escorted out of the still incomplete fortress and reaching their chariots and guards, Gallick who was eager to return to his clan and bring the news that his plan had worked to the clan elders who still continued to hold reservations against his rule, even after nearly a decade, was suddenly tapped on his shoulder from behind.

Turning to meet the owner of the hand, he saw his old friend Barrafin, the Patriarch of the Dulgon Clan, a middle grade clan like Gallick's but slightly weaker, as well as the other patriarchs who supported him inside the tent, standing behind him with an anxious look on his strong features.

Barrafin and Gallick were both men in their late twenties with Barrafin being Gallick's senior in only three years. Both men had been friends for as long as they can remember, as their clans were not only very close to each other geographically but also politically and economically, with Gallick's own sister even married to Barrafin.

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But despite the seeming harmony between the two, all was not well. And it all began nine years ago, when Gallick's and Barrafin's fathers were suddenly assassinated by their clans' most hated rival, the large grade Tamarthul Clan, that the rift between the two began to form.

After temporarily crippling the two clans, the already celebrating Tamarthul patriarch, who has long been ambitiously trying to swallow the clans to his north, quickly deployed his armies to deliver the killing blow, when an unexpected variable occurred.

Barrafin, the newly orphaned patriarch of the Dulgon Clan rallied his father's men and elders around him and led a daring night raid on the unprepared Tamarthul warriors, causing them horrendous damage, all the while Gallik and his much stronger Olgan Clan were still stuck in the quagmire of political turmoil, and a succession crisis.

A crisis that didn't end until five months later, when the victorious Barrafin, who despite winning a great battle and several brutal skirmishes, began to be pushed back after the Tamarthul forces regrouped and were reinforced, sent a letter demanding the Olgan's support as their allies, as well as his announcement of his betrothal with Gallick's sister, which served as a not so subtle declaration of support to Gallick's ascension to the throne.

Thanks to this Gallick claimed his father's throne and Barrafin gained the reinforcements he so desperately needed, to finally end the war in an uneasy armistice between the two wounded sides.

Yet despite the Olgan Clan's warrior's being the heroes and main fighting force of the last stretch of the war that finally ended it, very little recognition and glory was gained by them, while Barrafin and his Dulgon Tribe were showered by it, which not caused Gallick and elders of the Olgan Clan to be heavily criticized as fools who were too busy quarrelling like children while the enemy was at their door, but also caused many war refugees from other places to be drawn to and integrated by the Dulgon tribe, causing their power to meteorically rise, while the Olgan Clan could only watch year after year as their once weak neighbor grew stronger and stronger, until they now rivaled them in strength.

And Gallick, still carrying that same seed of envy and resentment, said coldly in the native tongue of the Murathicus tribes "What is it Barrafin?"

"What is it?! You're honestly asking me such a question?" Barrafin asked in return, with disbelief written all across his face "What in the name of the Gods were those demands you said back there? We only agreed to demand that they not interfere with our clan's lands and interests, as well as their aid in crushing our enemies. We never said you could insult them!

We never agreed to ask for the position they call Duke or Grand Duke! We never said we wished to split the spoils fifty fifty! And we certainly never said anything about their Patriarch they call emperor to marry one of us, or you to marry one of them, especially one from their royal family!" Barrafin spat out all that has plagued his mind.

Snorting as he climbed onto his chariot, he replied smugly "It's called improvisation Barrafin. You should try it some time, it might do you some good."

"This is no laughing matter, Lord Gallick." Rebuked the other medium grade clan Patriarch, named Calsin of the Hartiq Clan, who Gallick convinced a few days ago to join his side.

"Explain to us why you went off script." He demanded.

Seeing that he can no longer shrug off their queries, Gallick replied in exasperation "Are all of you blind?! Did you not see their timidness? Did you not see them buckling under my demands effortlessly? They obviously need our support, or they won't have agreed so willingly to my demands, or bowed their heads so casually when I delivered my insulting taunts, made to test our new ally's limits.

Why can you not see that?!"

Hearing this many of the Patriarchs began nodding their heads, swayed by his words, until Barrafin retorted "We are not blind Gallick, but I must call your hearing into question, since you obviously didn't hear their mocking laughs, or that they didn't agree to our demands, and merely told us that they would need to consider it, before ushering us away."

Snorting in response, Gallick replied "Matters not. They need us, or they won't have gone through so much trouble." He then urged his chariot to depart.

Seeing his rapidly fading figure, the other Patriarchs could do nothing anymore and bid each other farewell, desiding to deal with this matter later, leaving Barrafin alone, staring at Gallick's back, as he muttered "You've always been a greedy man dear friend, but one should know their limits, lest they fail to reach the stars and fall to their doom." Sighing, he could only say "You better know what you're doing.

I don't want to see my wife crying."

***

Back inside Hamilcar's tent, Kumak was still shivering on the floor, sweating bullets, as he cursed the day he approached those fools, but his thoughts were suddenly cut by Hamilcar's booming voice, which carried a tinge of his earlier happiness "Stand up Kumak." Which terrified him to no end.

Uttering stutteringly yet speedily, while still in the same position "M-My lord, I had no idea they would say such words! If I had, I never even would've..."

His words were cut short by Hamilcar's stern words "I said stand up."

Rising on wobbling knees and a sickly pale face, Kumak met the eyes of the ancient demon, expecting to see infernal rage, but instead he saw nothing but cold indifference intertwined with slight happiness.

Yet before he could vocalize his chaotic thoughts, Hamilcar said "You have nothing to fear Kumak, as you did nothing wrong. If anything you made our job easier."

"Huh?" Was all Kumak could say in reply, his muddled mind no longer capable of computing the constantly changing situation.

Deciding to ease the poor man's anxiety and confusion, and also recognizing this man's talents that would prove essential in the coming conflict, Hamilcar explained "His imperial majesty has decided to employ a Carrot and Stick policy for the early and middle stages of this campaign.

And you Kumak Takal as well as the other diplomats scattered across these lands who have yet to join us, will act as the carrot, while I the stick."

"Wait, so that means!" Kumak exclaimed.

"Indeed." Hamilcar affirmed.

"We were having a difficult time choosing the target of our metaphorical stick, since striking the wrong target would lead to more harm than good, but now you have delivered to us the perfect candidate to efficiently show these natives that it is our ire they should fear, not anyone else's." Hamilcar finished with a burst of aura that leapt out of his, wreathing them in blood red fire.

And that night a force of twenty one thousand men, led by Hamilcar himself, set out from the incomplete Emperor's Reach Fortress to deliver his imperial majesty's decree to all the Murathicus tribes, stamped with a tidal wave of Olgan blood.